Before The Moon Comes Out
by Brochelle
Summary: Before Once in a Blue Moon. It's raining outside. A wife and her husband joke with each other over the phone, separated by stars, but in the end the humor slips. MCxC  I can't believe I actually wrote romance!


"So… meet any sweet, dirt-pounding Marine ladies?"

The rain outside spat and rumbled against the windows, like some surreal invading army. I leaned back in my chair and rested my knees against the desk's edge. I listened to his laughter over the phone (somewhat tinny, but humor nonetheless) and found the infectious noise spurred a smile to spread across my lips. He was a man that didn't laugh often; when he did, it seemed to be the most hilarious thing you've ever heard. So I grinned and waited for his response. (No reason to feel anxious for making such an open remark to the Spartan. I was me and he was him and there was nothing else about it).

_John put down the framed image of his wife and chuckled. "Meet any handsome men in my absence?"_

"Only Mr Becaulen. He has beautiful eyes."

_Even if she couldn't see him, and he her, he faked a gasp and sat down on his cot. Outside his tent the shouts of men in marching formation were his only symphony, unlike his wife, who had an entire storm to take notice of. The cot squeaked as he lay down and rested his head on the pillow. His spine cracked contentedly and he tried to discern the static of the phone from the stomp of boots on hard dirt. "I don't need to hear any more, Ms Catherine."_

"You didn't answer my question, officer."

_"Well, the answer is no. I only arrived this afternoon. Although…"_

"'Although' what?"

"_Our team _does_ have an A.I. specialist. She'll be providing us with Insurrectionist field stats and weather alerts and-"_

I snorted, leaning forward again. I took a sip of coffee from a ceramic mug emblazoned with an ODST emblem (kudos, Edward Buck) and set it down again, minding the papers strewn across the oak top. "Now's when I draw the line," I replied.

"_Well good. There's only one A.I. for me anyways."_

"Damn straight there is. And what was that about Innies? I thought this was only recon."

_"Oh. Right." The smile on John's face disappeared and he found himself sitting up straight, one arm resting on his knee and the other rapidly losing the willpower to hold the phone. He tucked it between his shoulder and his ear so his weakened arm could rest. It'd never healed right, that arm. Things happen when you get hit with a car. "It was recon when I got the alert. Changed when we hit the inner 'sphere. But don't you worry, I'll be fine, even without you buzzing in my ear."_

For a few seconds I was deprived of the ability to reply. I was smiling too hard at the memories of our 'wild days'. While most couples' definition of the term was a bit more convincing, my characterization was somewhat less: years of traipsing endlessly across plains of alien territory and ancient ring worlds, destroying rogue long-standing artificial intelligences, blasting apart viral infection beasties, and shattering an antediluvian religion and hegemony. Oh, they'd been 'wild' indeed.

"Hmm. Well, I can't say I don't wish I was there. Without gunshots and bleeding plasma wounds I just don't know what to expect anymore."

_"Ah ha ha," he said sarcastically. "You're a riot."_

"I'm certainly someone to fight for, apparently."

Petty jibes, petty jibes, I thought. John's response was one to smile at (mostly because he was a totally idiot at hiding emotions without a visor to shy away behind) but not one of them I actually heard. I was fading away; the coffee hadn't helped like I'd hoped. I shouldn't have waited all night in hopes he would call. I shouldn't be doing this to myself. He didn't need me to hold his hand through war – when did he ever?

_"Night, then. You're tired. I can totally tell."_

He'd changed so much. Once he had been so quiet and reclusive. Losing your figurative brothers and sisters does that to you, supposedly. Next week he'd come home and I'd deal with his Spartan-conduct then. I tucked my legs under me and fingered the wedding ring on the chain around my neck.

For a moment, we just listened to the static that separated us. We listened and we waited for the other to say something.

_"I'll talk to you tomorrow. Soon as we're done with the op, I'll call you and discuss all the vivid stories Buck has been telling me. I'm sure you'd love it."_

"I know I would."

_"Talk later, hon. D.I.'s popping by and he'll have my ass in a can if the light ain't out."_

"See you tomorrow, love. I miss you."

He hung up with a click and the static now seemed more like a chain-link fence, rather than the light-years distance seemed like a brick wall. You can reach for each other through a chain-link fence but with a brick wall… not so much. I put down the phone and flicked off the lamp. I felt my way through the study and out into the hallway, heading for my door. A reporter was coming to visit next week, and I knew how long it took to get those dark circles out from under my eyes.


End file.
